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Mama gave instructions to the girl in gray and then sat opposite Maggie. She took another moment to look her over. “You look different from your picture in the paper. Different from the last time I saw you too.”
As far as Maggie could remember, she’d been roughly seventeen the last time they’d met.
“Yes, ma’am. That was some time ago.”
“Indeed. And here we are again. But I doubt you came to reminisce, so why don’t you get to the point?” Her tone was sweet but steely.
“All right. I need you to get your son to drop his bid on the Saints.”
One perfectly groomed eyebrow lifted a fraction. “And why would I do that?”
She’d try the polite way first. “Well, ma’am, I can’t see why you’d want Will spending his time on baseball—let alone a team in need of as much time and effort as the Saints—when he has Sutter Corp. to run.”
Corinne inclined her head. “In my experience, dear, men need hobbies.”
“The Saints aren’t a hobby, Mrs. Sutter.” She put some steel of her own into her voice.
“I appreciate you’re upset, Miss Jameson,” Corinne said. “But sometimes in business there are winners and there are losers. You can’t take these things personally.”
Maggie kept her smile polite. “But I do take them personally. When it comes to this particular business at least. The Saints belong in New York, and they belong with owners who care about them, not just someone who wants a hobby. I’m sure you can appreciate that. You and your husband built quite the empire together. You wouldn’t want to hand it over to someone who didn’t care about it, would you?”
“I’ve handed it over to my son.”
“Your son who’d rather play baseball owner than do what he needs to do to protect your family’s legacy?”
“My son who is a grown man who can make his own decisions. And why you think I can influence him to change his mind is somewhat beyond me.” She smiled. An expression more reminiscent of a snake baring its fangs than any friendly gesture.
“Perhaps I overestimated,” Maggie said. “Which is a pity. Because, I’m afraid, if you don’t—or can’t—change Will’s mind, then I’m going to have to start sharing the truth about him with the rest of the world. Starting with the team owners.”
Corrine’s smile went rigid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do.” Maggie pulled out the folder from her bag, flipped it open. “Because as far as I can tell it was Will’s dad and you who paid for him to get out of trouble all those times. Hush money. Bribes. Call it what you like. It must have been easy the first time, to get a juvenile record sealed, to make sure he still went to a good school. I’m not so sure about the times since.”
Ally Kaminski had remembered one Saints employee who’d come to her with a complaint about Will. About passes that didn’t stop and feeling uncomfortable. At the time the woman hadn’t wanted to make a formal complaint. But her name was a start. And then she’d told Maggie some others. Once they’d known there was something to find, Shelly and Hana had gone into overdrive. And hit pay dirt.
Corinne stared at her. “How do you know any of this?”
“I don’t believe that matters, ma’am. What matters is I do.”
“And you’d use this information? Like a petty blackmailer?”
“Ma’am, your son has been playing fast and loose with the truth all week. Not to mention that I know he was the one who saw fit to let the press know about my private life.” Shelly had been able to confirm that with one of her press contacts.
“You mean your affair with your employer.” Corinne’s lip curled. “Your father should have raised you better than that.”
“My father raised me to know a good man when I spotted one. And to play fair. Unfortunately for you, I was also raised with an ever-revolving roster of baseball players who wanted to be my big brothers. And quite a few of them made sure I knew how to play dirty when I needed to. Alex Winters is a good man, Mrs. Sutter. He plays fair. Your son has proven that. None of the stuff he’s been trying to smear Alex with has stuck. Any more than it will stick to Mal Coulter or Lucas Angelo. They’re all good men. They’ll be good for the Saints. But I don’t think Will would be.”
She looked down at the photos, then back up at Corinne. “Now, I can understand a mother protecting her son. But I want you to be clear on something. I’m protecting my family too. Some of this isn’t so bad. The stuff you and Jack hushed up when Will was a kid … the drinking and the drugs and the car crash and his friend losing a hand— Well, he was a kid and I’m sure that most people would shrug that off as boys being boys, as awful as that is. But that’s not all there is.” She tapped her file. “I have names of women who’ve lodged sexual harassment complaints. And no, none of them have taken it to the next step and pressed charges. But maybe they would if they were assured of having the right kind of support. Support I’m more than willing to provide. And maybe Will would deny it. But these days, no team wants to smear themselves with that. And plenty of companies won’t want to either.”
Mama’s face had turned pale under the makeup. Maggie felt sorry for her but she pressed on. Because Will needed to learn his lesson and he needed to be kept far away from the Saints while he did it. “I can—and will—be just as ruthless as anybody else when it comes to what’s mine. So you need to make a decision about what you’re going to do for Will next. What you’re going to do for your legacy next. Because I think you know as well as I do that Will could ruin it.”
There was a discreet cough from the doorway. Maggie looked up and saw the girl in gray carrying a tray bearing two glasses of iced tea and a plate of cookies. She reached down and flipped the folder closed. Her heart pounded furiously as she waited while the tea was passed to her and the plate arranged on an occasional table between them. She couldn’t have eaten a cookie right then to save her life. She felt like she might throw up while she waited to see what Mama would do next.
The girl retreated silently, and Corinne folded her hands in her lap. “All right, Miss Jameson. You have my attention. What do you want me to do?”
“Well firstly,” Maggie said, raising her glass. “There’s a game we need to play called ‘let’s make a deal.’”
Chapter Twenty-One
